


Not Exactly a Hallmark Moment

by StealingPennies



Category: Primeval
Genre: Angst and Humor, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 15:03:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StealingPennies/pseuds/StealingPennies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>‘I’m wild about you.’ <br/>It was pathetic to get upset about a card. Even if it was an absurdly cute card with a pouting cartoon Tasmanian devil on the front. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Exactly a Hallmark Moment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fififolle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fififolle/gifts).



> Birthday fic for Fififolle who wanted Connor/Ryan and was kind enough to use one of my bingo squares – Secret Admirer. *g* A little bit of smut and a whole lot of sap.

**  
 **Not Exactly a Hallmark Moment**

 

‘I’m wild about you.’ 

It was pathetic to get upset about a card. Even if it was an absurdly cute card with a pouting cartoon Tasmanian devil on the front. The inside contained a single printed sentence and a large handwritten question mark in black ink. So Ryan had a secret admirer. It was still only a card. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t.

Except that it must. Otherwise why else would Ryan have hidden it?

Connor wasn’t snooping. Admittedly, when he had first started living with Ryan he had poked around in drawers and cupboards looking for personal information, but only because Ryan was so close-mouthed that Connor sometimes felt he was living with a man with no past. And while imaging his boyfriend as some kind of James Bond super-secret agent was fun as a sexy fantasy it wasn’t so easy to actually live with - at least not when you were as unthinkingly verbose as Connor.

Ryan never complained, it wasn’t his style, but there were all too many times when Connor had nattered away about anything and everything and only belatedly noticed that Ryan was not responding. Not that Ryan ever indulged in idle chatter but he usually contributed a few ‘yeahs’ and ‘go ons’ at regular intervals to indicate that he had been paying attention and was interested. Connor had started to dread that closed look which meant that he, Connor, had strayed into difficult territory and unwittingly evoked some memory about something Ryan did not wish to be reminded and which he had no intention of sharing with Connor.

That was OK. Understandable, even. Connor still awoke shuddering with grief at the memory of his friend Tom’s life ebbing away as Connor held him in his arms. Real death was awful. It was nothing like a video game shoot-out. The sights, the sounds, the smells of life leaving a body seeped into your subconscious and no amount of wishing could make it go away. And now every memory of Tom was overlaid with those final horrible moments like an acetate film of layered images. Connor had seen death.

But Ryan had inflicted it. The difference was more than semantic.

At these closed-off times Connor wasn’t sure which of them Ryan was protecting. So he just pretended not to notice that there was anything wrong and kept talking and talking until eventually Ryan got over himself, shut Connor up with a demanding kiss, or made up some excuse and went out. Luckily Ryan had only deployed option number three once and had returned within half an hour and swept straight into option number two (extended remix version) but those thirty minutes had been some of the most miserable of Connor’s life.

Ryan’s silence about his past made it difficult for Connor to know exactly what the triggers were and how to avoid them. By the time Connor twigged that Ryan was upset it was too late to stop himself upsetting him. It was all very complicated and not at all easy to live with.

It wasn’t that Ryan deliberately kept Connor out more that he was naturally self-contained. When Connor enquired about previous relationships Ryan readily provided names and dates but not the things that Connor really wanted to know. Did you confide in them? Was the sex better? Why did you split up?

Naturally Connor could not ask any of these things directly. Not just because Abby said these were totally ‘girl questions’ but because even he realised that they made him sound desperately needy and insecure. So Connor just hopped around difficult subjects and tried to hold on to the fact that Ryan had asked him to move in and that should be enough of a sign of commitment without any big declarations.

Ryan rarely asked questions either. Not that he needed to. Connor babbled too much about everything and the truth was he had no comparable stories. No relationship stories at all, really, beyond fantasy dates and an awkward fumble at a party with a post-grad student whose name he never even knew. His life was school, university and ARC. There was nothing deep or mysterious about Connor. Nothing that would make someone like Ryan feel doubtful.

He and Ryan were so different. Ryan was all action and hard muscles and decisiveness. Connor was…well, pretty much the opposite. Of course, if Ryan beat him at arm wrestling Connor could always suggest a game of chess. The trouble was that Ryan forcing his arm slowly, but inexorably, towards the table was such a turn on that any physical games usually ended with Connor naked with his legs wrapped around Ryan’s waist.

Connor beating Ryan at Super Mario didn’t seem to have the same aphrodisiac effect. But, once or twice, coming back from an alert when the detectors he’d designed had worked perfectly and creatures and anomaly had all been efficiently despatched without injury or fuss, Ryan threw out an offhand compliment like ‘Nice work, genius.’ and Connor practically glowed with happiness.

So,no, Connor wasn’t snooping when he found the card.

He was cleaning up the kitchen because they’d had toast for breakfast and there were lots of crumbs and Ryan hated crumbs and he hated being on shift when Connor had a day off. Connor hated it too. The separate shift thing, that is, not the crumbs. Connor didn’t really care about crumbs - except when they were in the bed and then they were extra crumby and irritating. But that didn’t really happen here as Ryan was a bit funny about food in the bedroom.

Connor was cleaning the kitchen and then he planned to make a pasta sauce for when Ryan got home all hot and tired from whatever trouble the ARC had thrown up that day. He knew Ryan would be pleased as mostly Ryan ended up doing all the cooking. And the cleaning, come to that, but Ryan admitted he was a bit OCD about things being in their place. But today Connor had a day off and he was planning on both cleaning and cooking and generally being the perfect boyfriend.

It would be a nice surprise.

He could easily have Googled a recipe but Ryan had a favourite cookbook and Connor decided to flick through this and choose something easy. At first he didn’t notice the card. But as he turned pages it must have worked loose from where it had been wedged between _Pasta con i broccoli_ and _Pesto alla Genovese_. Connor hated broccoli. That somehow made things worse. Not that bolognaise would have been better. No sauce could soften the blow.

It wasn’t a big card. But it was clearly a romantic card. After staring at it for a few minutes in mounting dismay Connor slipped it back into its resting place and retreated to the lounge with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

It wasn’t the card. It was the fact that the card had clearly been hidden. Worse, when Connor looked on the internet – despising himself, but doing it anyway – the card was still available for purchase. That meant it was a new admirer.

They had bottled pasta sauce because Connor couldn’t face cooking. Ryan was sufficiently tired not to notice. At least the kitchen was clean. Ryan didn’t notice that either. He was too knackered to do much beyond eating the food put in front of him and slumping in front of the TV for an hour before going to bed and going straight to sleep. 

Connor trailed to bed too and then lay awake brooding. He went through the past weeks and months and wondered when the affair had started and when Ryan had planned on telling him.

Ryan was susceptible to soppy cards. Connor knew. That was how he had first started dating the captain.

It was Abby who had noticed Connor mooning after Ryan and suggested that he send a valentine’s card. At first Connor had scoffed but after a while it seemed sort of a nice thing to do. He wanted tell Ryan how he felt even if Ryan never knew who sent the card. And Connor had found a perfect card. It had a Stars Wars theme with a picture of a Jedi knight and the message ‘You’re the Obi-wan for Me’.

In retrospect he probably hadn’t been as cryptic as he imagined. Ryan had immediately guessed who his secret admirer was. But, and this was a big and amazing but, he hadn’t laughed or made out it was some great joke that the team’s resident geek should like him. No, he’d looked quietly pleased, and suggested they might meet outside work.

They’d gone for a meal. Nothing fancy, just a local trattoria, and it had been surprisingly relaxed. Ryan had driven and halfway home he had pulled into a layby and switched off the engine. Then he’d taken Connor into his arms and kissed him. Just like that. Ryan explored his mouth, first gentle and then hard, tongue hot and demanding, until Connor was completely loose-limbed and breathless, his cock straining against his jeans begging for release. At this point if Ryan had touched him Connor would probably have come on the spot and never mind about the awkward positioning of the gear stick and the handbrake or the possibility of being seen by a random passer-by. Instead Ryan had pulled away.

“You have a choice,” he said.

“Um,” mumbled Connor. He couldn’t stop his hips thrusting up one final time seeking the heat and friction of the warm body that had blanketed them just seconds earlier.

Ryan’s lips quirked. He looked more than a touch self-satisfied.

Connor tried again. “Choice?” he managed, struggling to get upright and rearranging various bits of clothing as he did so. Connor wore a lot of clothing most of which seemed to have become disarranged or unbuttoned during the course of their kiss. Ryan’s face was flushed and his hair slightly ruffled but otherwise he still looked as neat as he had when he picked Connor up earlier in the evening. His blue shirt remained neatly pressed and tucked in spite of its recent encounter with Connor’s flailing limbs and grasping fingers.

Ryan’s cat-with-cream expression morphed into something more serious. He regarded his companion intently. “I can take you home and arrange another date or you can come back to my flat for coffee and take it from there. I know which I’d prefer but it’s entirely up to you.”

It took a full minute for Connor to digest the ramifications of this offer. Surely they’d already had coffee at the restaurant? Ryan didn’t rush him.

“Your flat,” said Connor, eventually, barely able to hear himself speak over the drumbeat hammering of his pulse in his ears. Ryan’s response was lost in the thrumming. Connor had wanted this so badly for so long. It was almost impossible to believe that it was really happening.

They didn’t have coffee - at least not until the next morning. Once inside the flat Ryan had carefully unzipped Connor’s hoody, hung it on a peg and then kissed the tip of his nose. Connor made a small squeaky sound.

Ryan grinned. “You’re cute when you’re nervous.”

Connor opened his mouth to protest but the words were blocked by Ryan’s lips. This time Ryan did not hold back, kissing with concentrated focus and aligning their bodies so Connor could clearly feel how turned on the other man was. He moaned into the kiss. Ryan pressed against him harder, rubbing their clothed cocks together until Connor felt that the wall at his back was the only thing holding him upright.

“What next?” asked Connor when they eventually broke apart, trying not to sound either too eager or totally terrified.

Ryan looked amused. “I think we should take all our clothes off.”

This sounded like an excellent plan. Connor wasn’t going to argue. He started to reach for the buttons of his shirt but Ryan’s hands got there first. In fact all Ryan’s subsequent suggestions were equally inspired. Connor may have said as much after they had shagged and he was nestled in somewhat sticky contentment on Ryan’s firm, slightly damp, chest listening to his lover’s heartbeat.

“Sure you’re alright?” asked Ryan softly.

“Mmmmm.”

“Not sore?” He ran a light finger round Connor’s loosened hole causing Connor to shiver and buck.

He was sore but it was a good sore. Ryan had spent a long time preparing him and the memory of the initial fear of being breached was already fading so that all he could think about was the size and heat of Ryan’s cock moving slickly inside him, filling him, and how it felt to come stimulated from both inside and out. Ryan’s fingers began working him again. Connor felt his cock stirring. He moved to give Ryan better access.

He shifted his head to meet Ryan’s eyes. Their blue seemed darker, deeper. Ryan’s expression was an odd mix of lust and affection. Connor tried to sound nonchalant. “We could do it again if you like.”

At that Ryan laughed. He shifted a little to give Connor space to move. “I’ve created a monster! On your back, I want to see your face when you come.”

They’d spent virtually the whole weekend naked. It was one of Connor’s most treasured memories. Ryan hadn’t mocked or got impatient when Connor proved clueless. Nor had he complained when Connor got too enthusiastic with his fingers. He’d simply moved Connor’s hand and slowly re-inserted it at a slightly different angle. And he’d paid attention to what Connor liked and knew exactly where and how to stroke to make Connor cross that line between want and desperate need. It was like having a masterclass in sex with someone who was really, really good at it. Connor tried not to think about where Ryan might have gained all that experience.

So romantic cards were a weak spot. And not even a secret one. Connor had pretty much told the entire payroll the story of how he got together with Ryan, including the cleaning staff and Lester. The latter occurring on a somewhat fraught occasion when the ARC had suffered a creature incursion and the two of them had got stuck for hours in the lift with no way of knowing what was happening to their colleagues or of contacting anyone for help. Connor had run out of other things to say to fill in the silence and had embarked on personal reminiscences. Lester had agreed that desperate times did indeed call for desperate measures but had ordered Connor never to mention his sex life again.

Once he knew about his rival Connor couldn’t help checking everyone in the ARC. The SF team were all as buff and manly as Ryan. Any one of them would probably be much more Ryan’s type - either strong and silent or one of the lads – Connor wasn’t sure which category Ryan would prefer, only that Connor failed on both counts. Either way a soldier would be able to share combat experiences with the captain. Then there was the pretty curator who was in charge of the daily feeding of the menagerie. Connor knew that Ryan liked girls as well. It could be one of the technicians. Or someone from the field teams. Even Lester. God, what if it was Lester who had come to consider Ryan as a partner because Connor had talked about him in such embarrassing detail during their lift imprisonment? That would be beyond awful. It could be anyone. Anyone, but Abby, that is. Connor was sure that she would never betray him that way. Abby knew how Connor felt about Ryan.

Jealousy was quite exhausting. It didn’t go away. It just became part of life poisoning everything and dragging you down. And while Connor found no other evidence of betrayal he couldn’t help going to look at the card at regular intervals. It was like poking an ulcer with your tongue. You knew it would hurt but couldn’t stop doing it. It was a great card - who could resist a Tasmanian devil? - much, much better than a Star Wars card. Ryan didn’t even like Star Wars. He’d probably got together with Connor out of some sort of pity instinct. Ryan was big on protecting people.

Connor tried to behave normally, but either he was no good at normal or Ryan knew him better than he thought.

“What’s up with you?” he asked Connor bluntly over a mid-week dinner.

It had been a long day for both of them involving observing an anomaly for more than six hours in the rain. A single diplodocus had stuck its giant neck through the glittering mass but ventured no further forward. Connor had got bored and fidgety. Ryan had had a massive row with Cutter. Both were consequently somewhat on edge by the time they’d got back from the two hour drive from the site.

“Nothing,” answered Connor. He pushed his pile of mashed potatoes into a large creamy mountain and then smashed it with his fork.

“Suit yourself,” said Ryan, obviously not caring enough to pursue the subject. He moved to collect the plates and load them into the dishwasher. Connor let Ryan take his even though he hadn’t really finished. He’d been saving the mash until last.

In bed that night, Connor made a move towards Ryan. Sex was the one thing that they always seemed to connect on. Lying in Ryan’s arms made the worst days better. Ryan shifted away. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Conn, but I’m really tired. I could do with a good night’s sleep.”

“Yeah…OK. You’re right. It’s been a long day and we’ve both got early starts tomorrow,” said Connor, trying, and failing, not to feel horribly rejected. He tried to make a joke of it. “I suppose ‘I’m tired’ is better than ‘I’ve got a headache’.”

Ryan didn’t bother to laugh. He sounded irritated. “I suppose it would be, except that I really am tired.”

“I know,” said Connor and bit his lip to stop himself babbling a whole lot more.

This was followed by two days of split shifts were they barely saw each other. Connor hoped that maybe they could go out on Friday but Ryan had already arranged a poker evening with the SF team. Connor didn’t ask to come. He knew Ryan would not refuse but he also knew that Ryan sometimes preferred to meet his team on his own. They were all on the same project but the soldiers and the field teams were not exactly colleagues. They all liked him but it was a lot harder to let your hair down and bitch about the civilians if one of them was sat at the table next to you.

Connor woke up late on Saturday. That was ok. It was his day off. It was Ryan’s day off too. Perhaps if they spent time together just hanging out things would be better. Despite getting home after Connor had gone to sleep Ryan was already up. He rarely slept in preferring to get up and go for a run or get on with whatever chores needed doing. Connor got up, pulled on his jeans from where they were lying in a tangled heap by the side of the bed, and padded barefoot towards the lounge where he could hear the sound of the television.

“Tom,” he called automatically, even though it was unlikely to be anyone else.

Ryan was on the sofa dressed in loose grey sweats and a plain white t shirt. This was more or less his off duty uniform for relaxing round the house.

“Sshhhh,” said Ryan, glancing across briefly at Connor’s arrival. The TV was showing rugby, but highlights rather than a live game. Connor dropped down on the sofa in his usual spot. He never really understood how Ryan enjoyed watching sport even after he knew the results. Ryan likened it to Connor’s ability to watch a favourite film more than a dozen times. But films told a story and there was always something new to see. The rugby result never changed. He started stroking Ryan’s thigh. Ryan shifted away. “For goodness sake, Connor, can’t you see I’m trying to watch.”

The rebuff stung. That was twice now in the space of less than a week. It was pretty clear that Ryan was no longer interested in him. Connor gathered up the pitiful remains of his pride and stood up.

“I suppose it beats being tired,” he said. Then he had to leave the room quickly in case he started to cry. Sex was the one thing he was sure Ryan had liked with him. If even that was gone what was left? Nothing. He might as start packing and then Ryan could install his new admirer. They’d probably cook and clean, play rugby, and be brilliant at sex.

There were no tissues in the kitchen. Connor settled for blowing his nose on a piece of kitchen towel. He wished he was a bit more organised about life. What if Ryan wanted him out at once? He would have to shove all his things in a bin bag and take the bus somewhere. Abby would probably let him stay. At least for a while until he found somewhere of his own.

Ryan came into the kitchen.

“Has the match finished?” asked Connor because he didn’t like silence at the best of times and the atmosphere was already strained.

“No,” said Ryan.

Connor sniffed and blinked hurriedly. Ryan had most inconsiderately put himself between Connor and the roll of kitchen towels. He slanted a sideways glance at his lover unable to face looking at him directly. “You should go back and watch. You’ll probably miss a good bit.”

Ryan shrugged the suggestion off. “The rugby doesn’t matter. This does. Something’s happening between us and it’s not a good something.”

Oh God, this was it. Ryan was going to finish with him. Connor badly wanted to stick his hands over his ears and go ‘la, la, la’ like a toddler on the grounds that if he didn’t hear it didn’t count. But that was babyish. He needed to retain some sort of dignity – always a difficult concept for him – if he was to continue working with Ryan. He took a deep breath and prepared to face the awful truth head on.

“It’s OK, Tom. You don’t have to sugar coat it for me. I know about him.”

Ryan looked blank.

“Or her,” added Connor.

Blankness changed to concern and a certain amount of obvious bafflement. Ryan held his hands up in the universal gesture of confusion. “You’re going to have to be a bit more precise, Connor. I know something’s been upsetting you but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Your secret admirer. I know all about them.”

Now Ryan looked concerned but irritated. Connor had seen him use that look out in the field when someone failed to grasp a point and follow orders. “I hardly think so,” he said, not bothering to hide his exasperation. “For a start you don’t seem to know if you’re referring to a man or a woman.”

Suddenly words seemed all too difficult. Connor just wanted to get things over – hopefully without crying or making a complete idiot of himself. He slipped past Ryan and went to the corner of the kitchen where the cookbooks were kept and retrieved the card. He didn’t say anything just handed it over.

Ryan took it wordlessly. For a moment he looked honestly shocked. Then a flush rose to his face and he looked embarrassed and guilty and oddly vulnerable. The card was tiny in Ryan’s big, strong hands. Twenty grammes of heartbreak - a very small thing to cause such upset. Connor retreated back to his corner of the kitchen. He took the paper towels with him. Ryan dropped the card on the counter by his side. 

“Connor,” he began.

This was it. Connor tried to spare them both. “It’s alright. You don’t have to say anything. It’s been a lot of fun but I know that it’s over.”

Ryan stopped him with a look. “Conn, will you shut up and let me speak? Good. So you found this card and came to the conclusion that I’ve found someone else.”

Connor nodded. Ryan ran his hands through his hair as if not quite sure what to do. The vulnerability was still there. It was not an expression that Connor was used to seeing on Ryan’s face. Usually Ryan was the capable one - the one who knew all the answers.

“Listen,” he said. “You know what I think about getting involved with people at work. It’s not a good idea. I’ve always avoided it because the job’s dangerous enough and personal involvements can badly affect team safety. So when I come to the ARC I saw no reason to change.”

Connor nodded again. None of this was news. Ryan continued speaking, his voice low and passionate, containing none of its usual, almost instinctive, restraint.

“There’s this guy and, for the first time, I’m really invested. But there are a lot of things stopping me making a move. For a start this bloke is bloody brilliant. Off the scale smarts – half the time I don’t have a clue what he’s talking about.”

It’s a man, thought Connor, his mind instantly fastening on the important things. And clever, so probably one of the field team. That meant Nick or Stephen. Of course, Ryan would be interested in them. Nick and Stephen were both brilliant. More than brilliant, Nick was a natural leader and Stephen had a worldwide reputation as a tracker.

“Still with me?” asked Ryan. Connor nodded, dumbly. It hurt too much to speak. He knew you could pass out from emotional stress but his body didn’t seem to have got the message. Perhaps if he banged his head on the table really hard he could knock himself out and he wouldn’t have to sit and hear all the details. And yet he needed to know.

Ryan smiled ruefully, “So he’s smarter than me. He’s also a hell of a lot younger than me.”

Stephen then, thought Connor with dull comprehension. Of course, it would be. He should have known. Stephen was so attractive that everybody wanted him. He was way, way out of Connor’s sphere. It was pointless even to try and compete. Connor tried to swallow but his throat felt constricted. This was like Abby all over again. Connor had seen her first but the moment she clapped eyes on Stephen she never even thought about him. It was like that song, _Jolene_. But even if Connor begged Stephen not to take Ryan it wouldn’t matter because Ryan was no longer interested in him.

“He’s also clearly inexperienced.”

And then…what? This last statement stopped Connor in his tracks. He knew love was blind but surely Ryan didn’t mean that. Perhaps he had misheard.

“I don’t think you could call him inexperienced,” he said, carefully.

Ryan smiled gently. “Fantasy doesn’t count.”

Connor blundered on, “But Stephen’s been out with tonnes of people.”

Ryan stared at him as if he were mad. “Stephen! What? What the hell are you talking about? This has nothing to do with Stephen. I’m talking about you.”

This was so much more horrible than Connor had anticipated. He’d pictured this conversation a lot over the last weeks and in none of the imagined encounters had Ryan adhered to his current script. He smiled tremulously, “So you went out with me and nothing bad happened and now you can go out with Stephen.”

Ryan actually growled in frustration and slammed his hand down on the counter. “Will you stop rabbiting on about bloody Stephen!”

Now Connor was confused. “Well he sent you the card, didn’t he? Who else would we be talking about.”

Ryan came over and placed his hands on Connor’s bare shoulders. His fingers were warm and firm. He shook Connor slightly. “Can you just shut up and listen? Don’t try and guess what I’m saying. Listen to the actual words.” Obediently, Connor shut up. Ryan kept his hands in place and stared down at him. There flush was still visible across his cheeks. “So there’s this guy I liked but for all the reasons I told you I decided not to act on the attraction. I told myself that it was bad for the team and I would be taking advantage of him and it would be wrong, but I was lying. The truth is, I was scared. I’m not good with emotional stuff. I bought him a card for valentine’s day but I never sent it. But it turned out it didn’t matter because this guy was much braver than me. He did send a card.”

“So…you…that was for me?” asked Connor finally catching on. A ridiculously soft, squishy feeling spread through him. He was finding it hard to meet Ryan’s gaze.

“Yes.”

Still, he needed to double check. Just to make certain. “I drive you wild?”

“Absolutely,” said Ryan.

It wasn’t a graceful manoeuvre but somehow Connor jumped up and into Ryan’s arms. Ryan didn’t protest though he did rock back a bit with the force of the impact before recovering and holding Connor tight. Ryan was warm and firm and solid. He felt right.

“But I don’t understand,” said Connor, looking up at his lover. “Why didn’t you give the card to me later when we got together? Or just get rid of it altogether?”

Ryan gave a sheepish grin. “I was too embarrassed to give it to you and have to explain why it was so late. I thought I might send it to you next year.”

Oh, Ryan thought they would still be together next year! Connor felt almost giddy with relief. He couldn’t stop grinning and bouncing a little in reaction. “Give it to me now! You can get me new card next year. And flowers. And chocolates.”

“Demanding aren’t you?” asked Ryan, but his expression indicated that he thought that this was a good thing to be.

“Very,” agreed Connor, nuzzling into Ryan’s neck.

Ryan dropped his hands to the waist of Connor’s jeans. “I’ll give the card to you later. There’s something else I want to give to you first.”

It wasn’t chocolate or flowers but as far as belated presents went Connor had no complaints. Apparently it was true. He did indeed drive Ryan wild.


End file.
